


Coming Unhooked

by zilia



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Awkwardness, First Time, Fluff and Humor, Kissing, M/M, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 08:37:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5368769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zilia/pseuds/zilia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris moved to the city six months ago to pursue his dreams of becoming a writer and to explore his sexuality. However, he's far too shy to approach anyone, so he decides that the solution to his problem is to sleep with a male hooker so that he can become more experienced and confident. When he stumbles across an attractive hooker named Zach in a bar, he can't believe his luck. Meanwhile, Zach has a story of his own...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chris

**Author's Note:**

> With amazing awesome art by scifishipper:
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 

It's an ordinary Tuesday afternoon after what feels like about six whole months of Tuesdays when Chris decides it's time to mobilise Operation Gay Sex.

            OGS is the result of, and the antidote to, months of loneliness, failure, rejection, consideration, planning, backtracking, and retracking. It's a genius, foolproof idea. OGS, if it comes off, is going to be the greatest achievement in Chris's life to date, more of an achievement than his fancy college degree, his fifty-three notebooks half-filled with ideas for the novel he hasn't really gotten around to writing, and the prize he won in the third-grade story competition.

            Chris has known for a while that he's bisexual, but this revelation came unfortunately right in the middle of his time at Berkeley, when he was in a committed relationship with a lovely girl and he never quite got the nerve up to explain to her or to his friends that maybe he was a little more flexible than anyone, even he himself, had expected. When he realised he'd been checking out guys at the bar just as much as the girls, it had prompted months of soul-searching. And then it was final year, and final exams, and he had no time for anything much outside of work. Then the seeds of OGS were sown: survive finals, move away from Berkeley, away from his friends, away from anyone who had known him, away from all of that pressure, and reinvent himself, as a happy, comfortable, bisexual person, with none of those weird hang-ups. He'd have a degree and a life plan and then things would just fall into place, he was sure. So he'd graduated, moved to Brooklyn, started to pursue his dream of becoming a writer, and waited to meet the guy of his dreams.

            And waited.

            And waited.

            And waited.

Look, It's not like he expected them to flock to his door, ok? He's not _that_ arrogant. And it's not like he hasn't _tried_ to make a connection with guys. He's stopped short of internet dating, but he's tried, meekly, to suss out some of the guys he's seen in coffee shops or bars or on the subway. The trouble is, though, he doesn't know what to do _after_ that. It's not like being bi comes with a handbook, and he's terrified of misreading signs and offending someone, or, even worse, getting into a dangerous situation. So, after six months of loneliness, and not a whole lot of writing, despite the inspiration he was supposed to be getting from moving to the big city, he's getting a bit desperate. And he figured out that maybe he'd get on a bit better if he'd been with a couple of guys first, maybe increased his confidence a bit and didn't give off such completely hopeless vibes. And, he realised, the only way he's going to do _that_ is if he has a little paid help. Hence, OGS.

 

**Operation Gay Sex**

  1.      Go to a bar.
  2.      Pick up guy hooker. A guy hooker.
  3.      Learn all about gay sex from him.
  4.      Repeat as required until sufficiently confident to find boyfriend.



 

Chris has saved up quite a bit of money, in a safe location in the box of his dresser drawer. He's the kind of guy who likes to save and tell himself he's going to spend it on something, and then he thinks of something bigger he could buy if he _didn't_ spend it, and then when he's saved up for _that_ thing then he...well, you get the idea. He just doesn't like taking the plunge, and yeah, there's a metaphor in there somewhere, he's pretty sure. He's a _writer._ You don't need to point this stuff out to him.

            Chris has been planning OGS for months. He's pretty sure there have been multi-million dollar heists that have had less planning than this. He knows where to find the gay bars closest to his house. He knows which ones are more likely to contain male hookers, due to the slight skeeziness of their names and photos. His outfit has been meticulously planned: black jeans (smart, but not too smart; hugs his ass nicely) and a white t-shirt (soft; feels like angel hair; nice v-neck that's a _little_ warped from his habit of hanging his glasses on it, but not too badly), his leather jacket (projects effortless cool and a slight edge) and his favourite scuffed black boots (untidy, not dirty; shows off the tough-guy side to his personality that's not actually there but that he wishes there was). Before donning this ensemble, he takes a long shower. Debates. What do you do before having gay sex? Is it something different from what he'd do before straight sex? Does he need to shave his ass? His balls? He decides against it, in the end. He has no idea what guys expect. Then he gives himself a mental shake, remembers that he'll be _paying_ this person, and feels a bit better. They can just deal with his hairy balls. He gets out of the shower, wraps himself up in a towel, and just flops onto his bed for a bit. When he's stopped wasting time, he gets up, puts his contacts in, slicks his hair down, and makes faces at himself in the mirror for a while.

            This is ridiculous. It's not a date. It's like...an anti-date. That makes him think of an antidote, and he just giggles to himself for a while, before he pulls himself together. It's not like he's going to be late for someone. For some guy who he's just going to pay to fuck him. Chris doesn't have a moral objection to this. The way he sees it, they're helping each other out. He wants to get laid, and he'll help some guy pay his rent. He'll try to be smart about it. Condoms, obviously, and no guy that's obviously drugged up or crazy. Just a nice, normal, sexy guy that'll want to be paid for having sex with him.

            Chris considers himself objectively for a second. He's not _bad_ looking. He's tall and toned, not too muscular, but no weakling either. His hair's ok; a couple of greys now that he's in his late twenties, but nothing too bad. He was growing what his friends back home were derisively calling a "writer beard," but in deference to OGS he had shaved it off. Not that they knew about OGS, but they'd stopped teasing him, so he counted that as a win. He knows he has nice eyes (is that even something guys go for? nice eyes? is that really sexist to think that they _don't_?). His hair's ok. Any guy should want him, he tells himself, ignoring the acne scars that pepper his chin, a legacy of his awkward adolescence. Maybe the guy won't mind. He might not get that close. Hookers don't kiss, right? So maybe his face isn't that important.

            He shakes his head and tells himself to stop thinking. Too much thinking and not enough action is what's gotten him into this mess, after all. _Analysis to paralysis, Christopher_ , he chides himself in the mirror, parroting his therapist mother, and he turns away to get dressed. He doesn't stop to consider, just tugs on his clothes (taking care not to mess up his hair when he pulls his t-shirt on) and grabs his wallet from the dresser. Operation Gay Sex is going to go into action.

            Chris leaves the house and heads out toward the bar at the top of his list of possible locations. He's feeling so brave and daring. No rules, no parents, no suspicious roommates, just him and his wallet and his hitherto-unexplored bisexual desires. Perfect. Once he's found the bar – it's called "The Cock and Bull", and there's a neon sign above it depicting a cowboy whirling a lasso around his head that keeps fizzing unhappily, just to really hammer the point home – he slips in through the door. There's cheesy music, and the floor is sticky, and it's full of guys. It's really hot. Some of them are shirtless. They're really hot too. Chris licks his lips nervously. Where to begin? And how to tell? It's not like these guys are wearing badges or anything. He scans the crowd looking for a likely target. This is kind of the polar opposite of Chris's usual scene; he likes quieter places, where you can actually hear people talking, where the music isn't so ear-shreddingly loud. But that hasn't got him a guy yet. So he'll grin and bear it. Forcing his mind to focus past the thumping bass, he looks around, trying to repress the panic that's rising in his chest at the unforeseen complication.

            There's a large, heaving dance floor, which looks _way_ too intimidating for him to approach. He knows he's got two left feet; he'd stick out immediately and put guys off more than anything. There are a few couples making out there, but mostly it's just enthusiastic dancing. Ok, not the dance floor. He looks around. There are some booths and tables that look a bit more promising. He feels more comfortable dealing with a smaller crowd. Maybe he'll just slide up to one of them and introduce himself. He decides to get a drink first, just to loosen himself up a little.

            It's when he's on his way to the bar that he hears it. It's a little quieter over here; still pretty loud, but he guesses it's so people don't have to yell at the barman. He gets up close to a couple of guys who are talking while he's waiting to get the server's attention, and then he overhears a snatch of their conversation.

"What do you say, man? You free tonight?"

"You couldn't afford me," says the second guy dismissively, batting away the first guy's hand and smirking at him.

This sounds like a hook-up. Trying not to look too obviously interested, he snatches a quick glance at the couple. Well. It's meant to be a quick glance, but that second guy is so hot that it's like he's magnetic. Chris just _can't_ look away. He thinks he might give himself whiplash if he tries.

            The guy is tall and dark, all long legs, like some kind of swarthy gazelle. He's got strong dark eyebrows and he's wearing the tightest leather pants Chris has ever seen. Chris feels an instant attraction, manifested by a jolt around the region of his cock. He's just _staring_ at him, and can't look away. He replays the conversation he's just overheard, and then it clicks. The hot guy is a hooker! His first try at his first bar and he's hit the jackpot! Of course, looking at him now it kind of makes sense. This guy is too hot and confident to _not_ be a hooker, and those leather pants... Ok, so Chris isn't exactly an expert, but he's seen _Pretty Woman._ He knows how this works.

            The hot guy turns abruptly to Chris, putting his back to the guy who just attempted to hook up with him, and says "hey."

It takes Chris's brain a moment to process that the guy is talking to him, despite the fact that there's no room to misinterpret him. This is an unexpected development. Finally, he manages to speak.

"Hey? Um, hey! Hey. Um, hi."

"Hello," the guy says, giving him a slow smile.

"So can I?" Chris blurts out.

"Can you what?" the guy says, another smile breaking out, this one somehow darker, sexier, spreading to his eyes.

"Can I afford you?" Chris says, praying that it comes out suave instead of squeaky. _Great. Nice move, genius._

" _You_ might even get a discount," the guy says, winking.

Chris feels himself blushing. He even feels a bit dizzy, even though he never made it as far as asking for a drink. His first attempt and this plan is working _so well_. He feels effortlessly suave. He, Chris Pine, is picking up his first guy, and he can hardly believe it.

The guy leans forward and grabs Chris by the neck of his t-shirt, and gives him a thorough kiss. It's hot and heavy and lasts for longer than it should; the guy digs his hands into Chris's hips, hard enough to almost hurt, and Chris can't get enough of his hot, wet tongue. Chris breaks off, panting, and just _stares_ at the guy.

"So, you got a place nearby?" the guy asks.

"What?"

"You wanna get out of here?" The guy mouths along his jaw, his breath hot and tickly in Chris's ear.

"Can I at least get your name?" Chris pants. A shiver skitters down his spine as Zach sucks at the soft skin beneath his ear.

"Sure. I'm Zach. And you are...?"

"Chris."

"Hi Chris." Zach pulls away from Chris's neck, turns his smile up to 11, and Chris _melts._ He doesn't care whether guys are supposed to like eyes or not. _He_ loves eyes. Specifically Zach's eyes, which are a soft, molten brown, and fixing him with a look that makes Chris feel weak. He's going to have to hold onto something so as not to fall over. Like Zach, maybe.

"Thought we said hello already?" Chris asks, quirking an eyebrow.

"Well, you wanna get better acquainted?" Zach says, extending a hand.

" _Yes_ ," Chris says fervently, and lets Zach lead the way.

            They step outside the bar, where it's mercifully cooler and quieter. Because everything seems to be going Chris's way tonight, a cab pulls up almost immediately, and he opens the door and climbs in, still in kind of a daze. He would normally walk back to his place, but walking means he can't get his hands on Zach, whereas sitting down in the back of a car makes it much easier to touch him while not having to concentrate on remaining upright. Chris still can't really believe that this is happening, but Zach seems cool and confident, _kind of like a guy who has sex for money, Chris, duh,_ and takes his hand in the back seat. Chris mumbles his address to the driver, which he has to repeat twice, because Zach's big warm hand all over his is _so fucking distracting_ , and once they get on the road he is faced with the very real and threatening problem of trying not to have a heart attack whilst simultaneously coming in his pants. From a guy _holding his hand_. Zach is stroking his knuckles, and occasionally his wrist, getting his fingers inside the sleeve of Chris's jacket. Chris gives a little whimper. It's so good. It's been such a long time since anyone touched him, and this kind of touching is blowing his mind.

            The cab ride seems to fly by in seconds, and then suddenly they're outside Chris's building. Chris rummages in his pocket for his wallet, pulls it open and...fuck. _Fuck._ Those two hundred dollars he's been saving for this? Not in his wallet. In fact, Chris remembers suddenly and vividly, they're sitting on the top of his dresser, all ready and waiting for him to put _in_ his wallet to take out with him to pick up a guy hooker. _Fuck._ _Shit._ There goes any hope of being suave. How can he have left all of that cash at home? That was a key component of Operation Gay Sex. He's furious with himself, and looks over to Zach, not quite sure what he's going to say, but Zach beats him to it.

"Hey, don't worry man, I've got this," he says easily, and passes a bill to the driver. "Keep the change," he says, and opens the door, holding it open for Chris.

"I'm so so sorry," Chris says, blushing furiously. "That was...that was unprofessional."

" _Unprofessional?_ " Zach repeats, looking momentarily confused. Then he grins again. "Oh, no problem. I'll just add it to your tab."

Right, ok. Zach's probably used to this. "I'll make sure you get it back, I promise. Don't want to leave you out of pocket."

"Don't worry. I've got plenty." _Oh._ Chris wonder whether he's worked this evening already, and that thought makes a funny little shiver go down his spine. How much is his two hundred dollars going to get him? Maybe not very much. Is that the kind of thing he should negotiate beforehand? Probably. Zach's watching him with an expression of wry amusement on his face.

"I've got two hundred dollars. Is that ok?" He feels horribly awkward bringing it up, but he feels like he has to get it out in the open before they go any further.

Zach gives an incredulous laugh. "Two hundred... That's more than enough, man! But we can sort that out later. Right now...I've got more important things to think about." And he gently takes Chris's face in his hands and kisses him.

            This is different from the kiss in the club. This is soft, gentle, almost toe-curlingly intimate considering that 1) they've just met, and 2) Chris is paying for this. He wants to break off and ask, but then he wonders whether that would be really gauche. Perhaps the hookers-don't-kiss thing is just a rumour spread by _Pretty Woman_? Zach's kisses are _so good._ Not that he's got anything to compare it to, of course, having never kissed another guy but...mmm, it's slow and sweet and tender and Chris doesn't want it to end, ever, especially not just so that he can ask awkward questions. Zach kisses him like he wants to know him, like he wants to learn the shape of his mouth, the texture of his tongue. But he just can't help himself. He _has_ to know.

"So kissing's on the table?"

"You want to kiss me on the table?"

"No...I mean, _yes,_ but..."

"Because you're so _good_ at it," Zach says, leaning forwards, and Chris gives in. Zach's evidently worked out his own policies as far as kissing is concerned. Who is he to argue with it? And really, despite how hot Zach is, just the kissing is amazing. He's eager to move things on a bit, he really can't argue with this. He hasn't felt this special, this important to someone, in years. Zach really is a pro. No more questions; they both know the score. Now he's ready just to go ahead and enjoy himself.

            He leans in and chases Zach's mouth, and lets him lead them to the kitchen table, where he honest-to-God lays him down. Amidst the haze of lust in his brain, Chris has an insane moment of worrying about whether that's going to damage the table, or mark the floor, and then suddenly he can't think of anything else, despite how awesome this is.

"Wait!" he shouts, and Zach pulls off immediately, looking startled.

"You ok?"

"Yes, I'm fine, just...can we move somewhere else?"

"Thought you wanted the table?"

"That...was a misunderstanding. Sorry. Can we go to my room?" Chris tries to look sultry, but from the look on Zach's face, which is a combination of indulgence and amusement, he guesses he doesn't manage it.

"You're adorable," Zach says, and, to Chris's surprise, kisses him briefly on the cheek. "Ok then. Lead the way."  

            Chris takes Zach's hand, and leads him through to the bedroom. Once he's in there, he just holds Zach and kind of looks awkwardly at the bed.

"What do you want to do?" Zach asks, kindly not mentioning the horrible billowing awkwardness that's filling the room but instead acting like the cool-headed professional he doubtless is. It puts Chris at ease. Of course Zach's not going to just dive in. He needs to know this stuff.

"Honestly?"

"Of course honestly. This is all about honesty. I'm all yours all night. We can do whatever you want."

"Can we just go slow? I've...I've never been with a guy before."

"Ohhhh," Zach says, as though something is slowly dawning on him. "Oh, Chris. You're so sweet. And you're sure you want it to be me? Not someone you know a bit better?"

"Yes. I want someone who can show me what to do, someone experienced but who won't..."

"Experienced, eh?"

Chris flounders. "Well, yeah, I figured..." He's not quite sure how to end that sentence, so he gestures uselessly instead.

"Flattery will get you everywhere," Zach says, grinning. "But hey, seriously? I'm kind of honoured. And I'll take good care of you, make you feel so good. Anything you want. You just have to tell me."

_This_ is how Chris knows he made the right choice. None of this picking up random guys stuff. This way he can learn what to do without worrying that he's boring someone. Or making a giant idiot of himself.

"You're in control, Chris," Zach says, and Chris leans forward and kisses him. They start gentle, a slow play of lips and tips of tongues, and then Chris gains confidence, opening his mouth wider so that Zach can lick right into it. A shiver of pleasure passes down his spine, and he moans involuntarily.

"Want to go to the bed?" Zach asks him, breaking off and nibbling Chris's neck.

"Mmm, yes _please_...oh, hang on, I want to take my boots off."

Zach looks at him with that half-indulgent, half-amused expression that he's developing a love/hate relationship with, but says, "Go ahead. Then bed?"

"Then bed," Chris confirms. He bends down and unlaces his boots, pulling them off one by one. He then starts towards the bed, but Zach's look stops him.

"What?"

"You should take your socks off too."

"Why?"

"Because you're probably going to be naked at some point. And a naked man in socks is a definite no. So take them off first."

Chris obediently pulls off his socks and tucks them neatly into his boots. He stands up to find Zach grinning at him.

"You gonna take yours off?"

In response, Zach toes out of his sneakers and pulls his socks off too. Chris smiles, and holds out a hand to Zach.

"You have the best ass, by the way."

"You don't have to say that."

"I do if it's true. You're adorable when you blush too."

"Now I know you're not serious. When I blush I look like a fire hydrant with ears."

" _Cute_ ears, though," Zach says, and nibbles one.

Chris laughs, and then he leads Zach to his bed. They lie down side-by-side, facing each other, and Chris is reminded of being in high school and fooling around with his first girlfriend while his parents watched TV downstairs. Just kissing Zach is intoxicating enough, and he can't get enough of it. They make out like teenagers on Chris's bed, Zach rolling on top of Chris to press his hips down against Chris's groin and Chris arching up to meet him. It feels good. Unbelievably good. Zach is so patient and gentle, letting him really sink into the kiss. Feeling daring, Chris puts his hand up Zach's t-shirt, stroking the warm skin of his back, stroking him. Zach gives a little shudder against him, and Chris, emboldened, lets his kisses trail down Zach's neck. He sucks on Zach's jumping pulse point and Zach bucks up against him.

            "S'good, s'good," he mumbles, and Chris preens inwardly. He closes his teeth gently over his mouthful of skin, and Zach groans. Zach's hands are in his hair, keeping his head held down to the pillow, and he works a leg in between both of Chris's for Chris to buck against. They're moving together now, really filthy, just like having sex with their clothes on. Chris grabs the hem of Zach's t-shirt, and Zach twists up for a second so Chris can tug it up over his head.

"Yours too?" Zach says, and Chris yanks up his own t-shirt and throws it across the room with a flourish.

They're sitting up now, looking at each other in the dim light of Chris's room. Zach's body is beautiful, trim and tan, with a thick thatch of dark hair across his chest and another trailing down from his belly button over his toned stomach. Chris wants to touch him everywhere. He reaches up to stroke his fingers across Zach's ribcage, as Zach reaches up to thumb one of Chris's nipples. Chris lets out a small whimper as Zach introduces the slightest hint of nails. He dives forward and kisses Zach again, and Zach takes two generous handfulls of Chris's ass and pulls him forward so that he's straddling Zach's lap.

"How d'you wanna do this? Zach asks, against his mouth, as he rocks Chris's pelvis back and forward on top of him. Chris knows with a certainty he has never felt about anything that he wants Zach inside him.

"Want you to fuck me," he answers, and Zach shudders.

"Yeah? You sure?"

" _Yes._ Just...gently?" Chris is proud of how his voice doesn't quail on that, really hopes his anxieties aren't showing, but Zach seems to sense them anyway.

"I'll make it so good," he promises. He rests his forehead against Chris's for a moment, breathing with him, their lips almost-but-not-quite touching. It feels so _serious._ Chris is turned-on beyond belief, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he feels touched that Zach is trying so hard to make him feel safe.

They stay like that, foreheads resting together, for a few minutes, when finally: "Ok," Zach says, "We need condoms, we need lube, and we need pillows."

"Lube, right," Chris says, and tries to reach his nightstand without having to move from Zach's lap. It's difficult, but not impossible, with a little shuffling that causes him to press even closer into Zach. He scrabbles around in the drawer and finds a bottle of lube and a strip of condoms, and drags them over to Zach.

"Trust me, ok?" Zach says, "I'm going to take good care of you, make sure you're nice and wet and loose for me, God, Chris, you're so beautiful."

Chris feels a flush spread from his cheeks, down to his knees and blotching its way across his chest.

"You, too," he says, ducking his head, embarrassed.

"Can you take your jeans off?"

Chris can definitely do that, just about, even though almost all of his spare blood is in his cock right now. He fumbles with the belt a few times, and then finally gets it undone, and wriggles out of his jeans. His cock is straining against his boxers, a small but noticeable damp patch spreading from the tip. Chris takes a deep breath and pulls those down as well.

Zach, slowly and deliberately, looks down, looks back up at Chris, and licks his lips.

"Gorgeous," he whispers, and Chris flushes again.

"You, too," he says, batting ineffectually at the fly of Zach's leather pants. Zach doesn't look away from Chris, but he unzips and then slowly shimmies out of the pants. It's impressive, given how tight they are, that Zach manages to look sexy as fuck doing it. Chris's eyes almost fall out of his head when he flicks his gaze downwards and finds that Zach isn't wearing any underwear.

"More comfortable that way," Zach purrs, "Soft, warm leather against your dick? It's the best. You should try it. Bet your ass would look great in them."

Jesus fuck this cannot be happening to him. He's going to wake up any minute now. But no, it gets better.

"I need you to roll over for me," Zach says, "And put a pillow under your hips. It'll feel better."

Chris reaches up to the headboard of his bed and pulls down one of the pillows. He does as Zach says and the lies down, feeling very self-conscious suddenly, like he's shoving his ass in Zach's face, and his cheeks burn.

"Don't be shy, baby," Zach says quietly, "You're beautiful." Chris hears him snap the lube open, and a few seconds later he feels a cool, wet finger sliding down his crack, stroking over his hole. He gives a very unmanly whimper at the feel of it, and Zach gives a soft laugh.

"Sorry, it's a bit cold."

Chris has fingered himself before, on more than one occasion, so he's not exactly a stranger to the feeling, but it feels completely different when it's someone else doing it. He can't help jumping a little every time Zach touches the soft, sensitive skin. Zach is slow and gentle with him, just stroking around his hole and not entering him until he can stop flinching. He bends down and kisses Chris's lower back and tailbone, encouraging him to relax, as he keeps working his finger backwards and forwards across him. Finally, Chris arches back into the touch, and Zach slips the tip of his finger inside him.

            Chris rocks back, letting Zach know that he's enjoying himself, and Zach pushes further into him, adding a second finger and stretching him gently. When Zach grazes his prostate Chris can't help it; he moans, long and low, and Zach strokes him there again, a long, deliberate touch that sends streaks of lightning up Chris's spine.

"Is that nice?" Zach asks him, in a teasing tone.

" _Yes,_ " Chris sighs, as Zach spreads his fingers. It feels so good, a gentle burn that makes him eager for more. "Feels so good, Zach, more, _please_."

"You ready for me?"

"Please...want you in me."

"Ok." Zach slips his fingers out of Chris, places his hands on Chris's hips, and guides them up. "If this hurts you at all, you've got to tell me, ok? Anything you don't like, we can stop." Then he's lining up and sliding inside.

            Chris keeps waiting for it to hurt, but it doesn't. It feels weird, slightly uncomfortable, sure, but it doesn't hurt. In fact, after a couple of minutes to adjust, it feels good. Full. He rolls his hips experimentally, and Zach presses back against him gently. They start up a slow, tentative rhythm, with Zach pushing into him and Chris rocking back. Zach's lying on top of him now, and the weight of him feels good. He kisses the back of Chris's neck and the tops of his shoulders, and Chris gives a soft sigh with the pleasure of it.

"You like that, baby?" Zach asks, and the endearment makes Chris glow with warmth, letting himself forget for a moment that he's one of possibly hundreds of people Zach has called "baby" in his time.

"It's so good," Chris agrees, "Keep going, keep going..."

"Nice and slow," Zach murmurs, thrusting deep and firm into him, "Just nice and slow. That ok, baby?"

"Yes, _please_ , more." Chris feels like he's overflowing with sensation. It's building in the base of his spine and spreading slowly throughout the rest of his body, radiating outwards like a bright, safe warmth. He's never felt anything like this before, such a physical and mental connection with somebody. He knows it's insane to feel something like this for a guy he's _paying_ to sleep with him, but it feels so good, _so_ crazily good, and as Zach reaches around to grasp his cock and give him a few firm strokes, Chris tumbles over the edge into the most intense orgasm of his life, and forgets about everything else.

 

When Chris wakes up, it takes him a little while to work out why he feels so loose and achy and, well, _satisfied._ His ass is sore, and he feels a few bruises.Then he remembers the night before, and really has to stop for a moment to reassemble his last few braincells. Once his head is on straight, he realises that there's something missing. Namely Zach.

            He shoves his glasses at his face and it takes a couple of tries before they go on straight. Once they're hooked over his ears properly, he focuses. No sign of Zach in his bedroom. No sound of the shower, and a quick scout around the rest of the apartment reveals that he's gone. He rummages in the pocket of his discarded jeans from the night before, and fishes out his phone. Shit, it's 2:07pm. Then Chris makes it to the dresser, and that's when he notices something that's still there.

            The precious $200, which suddenly seems like a total bargain given the experience of the previous night, is still sitting there. _Fuck._ Why the hell would Zach leave without taking the money? He goes to it, picks it up, flicks through it. He counts it, and realises that there's $10 missing. That's weird. Why would he only take $10? This doesn't make any sense. And now there's a hooker somewhere in the city to whom he owes $190, and he doesn't have his number, or his last name, and he has no idea how to find him. _Brilliant._

            For a few moments, he's just frozen in panic. What is he going to do? He can't not pay Zach. He's got to do something about this. The thing is, it's not just the sense of obligation. He's desperate to see Zach again. Zach was funny and charming and sweet and so very good in bed. And Zach liked him, right? He thought he was adorable. He'd said so, several times. Chris wants to see him again, talk to him again, sell a few things he owns so that he can be with Zach again. He wants to explain. But first, he has to find him.

            Chris is tempted just to go out into the street and start yelling "Zach! Zach! Zach!" but that's obviously not going to get him anywhere. He knows _nothing_ about Zach aside from his name. He has no idea where to find him. The city is way too big, and there are literally thousands of places he could be right now. His best bet, logically, is to go back to the bar in the evening, and try to find him again, and even that might be a long shot. But as it's still the afternoon, he can't really expect that he'll be there yet. It's time to stop and regroup.

            He's reluctant to shower and wash the memories of Zach off his skin, but he knows that he smells pretty gross, and it'll help him to wake up. He spends a long time under the hot spray, letting it ease his aching muscles. He lets his mind wander to what might have happened if Zach had stuck around to share the shower with him, imagining the wet, slippery slide of their soapy skin, kisses under the water, and...before he knows it, he's jerking off, and having probably the second-most satisfying orgasm of his life, to the memory of the person who brought about the first.

            After the shower, he dresses in comfortable jeans and a t-shirt, and decides to go out to get some coffee, mostly because he needs caffeine, but also because he needs to get out and fight the temptation just to lie in bed all day and think about Zach until he can try to find him again. He needs to kill a few hours, so he stuffs a book into his satchel, makes sure this time that the money is in his wallet, and steps out into the street.

            The closest coffee shop is the one right by the college campus, and it's also one of his favourites. Once he's got his gigantic triple-fudge-latte-with-extra-sprinkles (what? it's been a challenging day), he chooses a seat by the window and stares moodily out at the students going back and forth. He's just admiring the legs on one of the guys walking past, thinking fondly of the night before, when he looks a little higher and realises that those are _Zach's_ legs. He leaps to his feet, spilling coffee all over himself, grabs his bag, and hares out of the café.

            "Zach! Hey, Zach!" he shouts, causing quite a few people to look his way, probably because the sight of a man covered in coffee emerging shouting from a café isn't something that they see every day.

            Zach looks up in surprise, and then his face splits in a grin.

"Chris! Hey, what are you doing here? This your college too?"

Chris feels such a flash of warmth at the sight of Zach's grin that it takes him a minute to process his words.

"Oh, no. No, I'm out of college. But hey, you're in college, which is great! Bettering yourself. Yeah."

Zach gives him a quizzical look, so Chris presses on. "I've been thinking about you all day!"

"Really?" Zach's grin gets, if possible, even wider.

"Yeah, listen, I'm sorry about last night."

Zach's grin falters. "Sorry? Why? I had a great time last night. Thought you did too."

"Oh no, I did. It was amazing, thank you so much. But Zach, you didn't take your money."

Zach looks more confused. "Yeah I did. I saw the stack of notes on the dresser and I took a 10 for the cab, like I said."

"But you didn't take the rest," Chris says, rummaging in his bag for the envelope containing the remaining bills, mercifully not soaked by coffee. He grabs for it and thrusts it into Zach's hands. Zach doesn't take it.

"What the hell is going on?" he says, looking distinctly cool now.

"Last night," Chris says, trying to be discreet and not out Zach to his fellow students. "The money. You know."

Zach pauses for a few seconds, clearly thinking, and then suddenly gives an incredulous laugh. "Oh, my God. _Oh my God._ I know what's going on here. You think I'm a hooker."

"Well, yeah," Chris says, his confusion mounting. "Aren't you?"

 


	2. Zach

Zach has been celibate for far too long.

Not by choice. By force of circumstances. He's pretty sure there were _medieval monks_ who got more action than he's had recently. After his last relationship broke up, he threw himself into his studies, and it's only now that he really thinks about it that he realises he hasn't had sex in over eighteen months. Unacceptable. Totally unacceptable.

            Desperate times call for desperate measures. He's going to get dressed up, he's going to go out to the seediest bar he can find, and he's going to get _laid._

            The leather pants are kind of a joke to himself, really. They're not something he'd ever wear normally. His ex bought them for him, and he wore them maybe once or twice and then stuffed them in the back of his closet. They're not uncomfortable or anything – they're actually pretty soft, especially without underwear – but they are a bit more hey-there-I'm-gay than he's used to. Normally he's a jeans, sneakers and sweater kind of guy, and he suspects his ex bought them for him mostly to make him feel uncomfortable and to drive home how uncool he thought Zach was. However, tonight, he's feeling very hey-there-I'm-gay, despite the association with that cheating asshole, so on they go, along with a tight-fitting t-shirt. A quick rummage in the bathroom reveals that the asshole's eyeliner, previously presumed dead and buried in the trash, was only actually missing (it must have missed his cull), and so he runs it around his eyes, figuring he might as well. He almost doesn't recognise himself in the mirror, and his classmates probably wouldn't either. That's probably a good thing. He just wants to go out, do something completely out of character, pick up a random guy, and have some no-strings-attached sex, instead of being boring, bookish Zach who always does his homework on time. The fact that he's never done anything like this before isn't something he's going to dwell on.

            In keeping with his quest for new experiences, Zach decides to visit one of the gay bars that he's always derided so much in the past. He normally hates them, preferring quieter places, but he feels like it's his best shot at finding Mr Random. A quick google on his phone brings up The Cock and Bull as a nearby place – he snorts derisively at the name, but it sounds exactly like what he's looking for – and he walks the few blocks, practising a swaggering walk to project a confidence he really doesn't feel. By the time he arrives, he's got it down.

            As he walks in, he's hit by a blast of humid air and thumping music. It's disorientating for a minute, until he gets his bearings. He works hard to keep a grimace off his face, and makes a move towards the bar. It's not too busy, and he gets served quickly, ordering two shots and downing them both to give himself a bit of liquid courage. It works, a bit, rushing straight to his head, so he takes a minute to let his head stop spinning. Then he leans back against the bar to examine the options for the evening, assuming what he hopes is a casual slouch and a come-hither expression.

            It works, apparently, because within a couple of minutes, he's being approached by a tall, slim guy in a leather jacket. He's not bad, Zach thinks, looking him up and down. The guy gives him a grin when he sees Zach looking, and Zach raises an eyebrow in challenge.

"Hey," the guy says when he reaches him, with no preamble whatsoever, " _Love_ your pants. Are they made of Windex? 'Cuz I can see myself in them."

Oh God. _Oh God,_ no. That's the worst line Zach has ever heard, and it's only the alcohol slowing his reaction time that prevents him from wincing. _I don't want to put my dick in a guy who uses those kinds of lines with a straight face_ , he thinks, and casts desperately around for a way to say _oh hell no_ without actually saying _oh hell no._

"What do you say, man? You free tonight?" The guy reaches out to grab at Zach's t-shirt, and Zach takes a quick step back.

"You couldn't afford me," Zach says flippantly, with his cockiest smirk. It just slips out, without him really planning to say it. He's only half focusing on the guy, because the other half of his attention has been caught by a guy waiting at the bar. The guy looks quite uneasy, radiating the kind of discomfort that Zach feels at being in this place but is working hard to hide. He turns his head to get a proper look, mostly to get the creep in front of him out of his eyeline, and then...woah, hang on. New Guy is _way_ hotter, even if he looks a bit like a rabbit in the headlights. Zach can't even explain what it is, exactly; tall, blond guys are kind of a dime a dozen, after all, but there's something about him that means Zach wants to know more. Maybe it's just that he doesn't have much to compare him to, but Zach has made his decision. It's New Guy, not Creepy Guy, he's taking home tonight. Now he just needs to get New Guy on board.

            Turning his back on Creepy Guy, Zach gives New Guy his full attention, and says, "hey."

The guy seems surprised that Zach is talking to him, but when he does finally get it, he overcompensates with several greetings.

"Hey? Um, hey! Hey. Um, hi."

The guy's awkwardness is so endearing that Zach can't help smiling.

"Hello," he says, giving him an encouraging smile. _Please don't turn out to be a dick as well, or I might just lose all faith in humanity._

It doesn't start well.

"So can I?" blurts New Guy.

Zach is confused, but not entirely put off.

"Can you what?" he asks, trying not to look confused and instead, like, breathtakingly sexy or something.

"Can I afford you?" New Guy says, in kind of a squeaky voice, as though he'll lose his nerve if he doesn't say it.

 _Oh._ He must have overheard him talking to Creepy Guy. Zach is going to give him points for attempting to flirt, even if he's adorably bad at it, so he winks at him and says, " _You_ might even get a discount."

The guy flushes so red that Zach can make it out even in the dim light of the club. Zach can see Creepy Guy behind him, possibly getting ready to open his mouth again, and to give him the message once and for all that he's not interested, he leans forward, grabs New Guy by the neck of his t-shirt, and yanks him in for a kiss. Zach has never, ever, kissed anybody he doesn't know before, and he doesn't mean for it to be such an intense kiss; it was meant just to be playful, a couple of seconds, but instead somehow it turns hot and possessive. The other guy opens his mouth, and Zach can't help it; he licks into him, and grips his hips hard. When they break off, the other guy is panting, and staring at him like he might be a bit crazy.

"So, you got a place nearby?" Zach asks, dropping his head to kiss his neck. He feels like if he doesn't keep going with this he's going to lose his nerve, and so he keeps barrelling on, despite the fact that he has no idea what he's doing.

"What?" the guy says, probably understandably.

"You wanna get out of here?" _Come on, Hot Guy, get with the programme._

"Can I at least get your name?"

This gives Zach pause for a moment. He's been so wound up in pushing his own boundaries that he hasn't really stopped to consider whether this guy actually _wants_ him.

"Sure. I'm Zach. And you are...?"

"Chris."

"Hi Chris." Zach pulls away from Chris's neck and smiles at him, hoping against hope that he's winning him over because, _yeah,_ he just gets hotter the more he looks at him. His eyes are an intense cerulean blue, like looking into the deep end of a swimming pool, and his smile makes Zach feel kind of floaty.

"Thought we said hello already?" Chris says, and Zach gets the warm fuzzies all over again, because he clearly has a sense of humour as well as being unfairly attractive. This does at least give him a chance to check that he's not forcing himself on the poor guy.

"Well, you wanna get better acquainted?" he says, mentally crossing his fingers that the answer is going to be...

" _Yes_ ," Chris says fervently, and Zach inwardly crows in triumph, takes his hand, and leads him outside.

            Within a couple of minutes, they're in a cab and on their way to Chris's apartment. Zach can't seem to let go of Chris's hand. Even with this new reckless side of him that apparently goes out and picks up random guys in bars, there's evidently still something in the back of his head that prevents him from breaking the laws of public decency in the back of taxi cabs. He's sure his mom would approve if she could see him. Well, of the restraint anyway. Probably not so much the random hook-up. And...he _really_ doesn't want to be thinking about his mom right now, and he goes back to stroking Chris's hand.

            He suddenly realises that they've come to a stop, and that Chris is rummaging through his wallet, looking mortified. It looks like he doesn't have the cash to pay for the cab. The poor guy looks so upset about this that Zach reaches for his own wallet and passes a bill to the driver.

"Hey, don't worry man, I've got this," he says, trying to reassure him. Yeah, it's a bit embarrassing, but it can happen to anyone, so he glosses over it, gets out of the cab, and holds the door open for Chris. "Keep the change," he adds, and the driver nods gratefully.

"I'm so so sorry," Chris says, blushing furiously as the cab pulls away. "That was...that was unprofessional."

That's not exactly how Zach would put it. " _Unprofessional?_ " _God_ , Chris is awkward. Then he remembers their earlier banter and wonders whether this is an attempt to carry it on, and he grins. "Oh, no problem. I'll just add it to your tab."

"I'll make sure you get it back, I promise. Don't want to leave you out of pocket." Chris looks so adorably earnest about this and Zach can't understand why he's so concerned about this.

"Don't worry. I've got plenty." Ok, so that's an exaggeration, but it's not like ten dollars for a cab is going to bankrupt him.

"I've got two hundred dollars. Is that ok?"

Zach blinks, not sure whether he's heard correctly, but he guesses he has by the look on Chris's face. Is he joking? Has this guy ever taken a cab before? What does he think they run on, champagne? Why is he even so bothered about this? Time to get things back on track. "Two hundred... That's more than enough, man! But we can sort that out later. Right now...I've got more important things to think about." And he gently takes Chris's face in his hands and kisses him, putting as much effort as he can to remind him why they're here. It's a pretty good kiss, even if he does say so himself.

When they break off, Chris says, "So kissing's on the table?"

Zach is confused again. "You want to kiss me on the table?" Sounds kind of hot, actually, but a little unexpected. He glances across the room and sees a small table in the corner. Well, it looks pretty flimsy, but if Chris is into that...

"No...I mean, _yes,_ but..." Chris is flustered again, and babbling, so Zach has mercy on him and gives him a compliment.

"'Cos you're so _good_ at it," he says, leaning forwards, and kisses him again. As they kiss, he guides them both to the table that Chris is so concerned about, and lays him down on it. He's just getting into it when Chris shouts "wait!" and Zach nearly jumps out of his skin.

"You ok?" he asks, worried he's hurting him.

"Yes, I'm fine, just...can we move somewhere else?"

"Thought you wanted the table?"

"That...was a misunderstanding. Sorry. Can we go to my room?"

Zach has to work really hard to keep a straight face at the expression that Chris makes to accompany that request, because he clearly thinks it looks alluring, but he doesn't want to hurt his feelings by laughing at him. Overcome, he says, "You're adorable," and kisses him briefly on the cheek. Somehow that seems more intimate than kissing him on the mouth; he gets his nose close to Chris's skin and breathes in the scent of him, nuzzling in close for a few seconds. "Ok then. Lead the way."

            Once they actually get inside Chris's room, he kind of flails a bit in the general direction of the bed. He's so shy and sweet that Zach just wants to wrap him up and take care of him. Maybe _after_ fucking him senseless. And where did _that_ thought come from?

"What do you want to do?" he asks, pushing it out of his brain.

"Honestly?" Chris looks hesitant, and Zach's heart squeezes a little. Yeah, this is a hook-up, but there's no reason to be inconsiderate. What kinds of guys has Chris been with in the past?!

"Of course honestly. This is all about honesty. I'm all yours all night. We can do whatever you want."

"Can we just go slow? I've...I've never been with a guy before."

"Ohhhh." Well, that answers _that_ question then. "Oh, Chris. You're so sweet. And you're sure you want it to be me? Not someone you know a bit better?" This feels like a huge responsibility all of a sudden, but Chris looks determined.

"Yes. I want someone who can show me what to do, someone experienced but who won't..."

"Experienced, eh?" Zach wants to laugh out loud. He's _definitely_ not that. Three partners in his life, all of them people he knew. His first kiss with a stranger was less than one hour ago. His confident act must be working, and he has no desire to shatter Chris's illusions.

"Well, yeah, I figured..."

"Flattery will get you everywhere," Zach says, grinning. "But hey, seriously? I'm kind of honoured. And I'll take good care of you, make you feel so good. Anything you want. You just have to tell me." Even if he's not quite what Chris thinks he is, he can be what Chris needs. And what he said was true. He _is_ flattered that someone would trust him like this.

"You're in control, Chris," Zach says, and Chris leans forward and kisses him. It's a good kiss, starting gently and then heating up. The more Zach kisses Chris, the more he wants to kiss him. It's glorious. Chris may be nervous about the sex, but he really is good at kissing. He breaks off and nibbles at Chris's neck, and says, "Want to go to the bed?"

"Mmm, yes _please_...oh, hang on, I want to take my boots off."

Of course he does. It's not a bad idea. It's just the abrupt way that he says it, but he grins.

"Go ahead. Then bed?"

"Then bed," Chris confirms. He gets his boots off – Zach admires his ass as he does so – and makes towards the bed, but he's left his socks on. Cardinal error. Chris stills when he realises Zach is watching him.

"What?"

"You should take your socks off too."

"Why?"

Does he honestly not _know_ this? Has he ever had sex _at all_? Your partner's gender may change, but being naked except for socks is never a good look.

"Because you're probably going to be naked at some point," he says patiently, "And a naked man in socks is a definite no. So take them off first."

Zach grins as Chris obeys him, and then he says, "You gonna take yours off?"

Good point. Zach removes his sneakers and socks, and takes Chris's hand.

"You have the best ass, by the way," he says, and Chris flushes.

"You don't have to say that."

"I do if it's true." God, he looks adorable when he blushes, and Zach can't stop himself from saying it, so he doesn't even bother. "You're adorable when you blush too."

"Now I know you're not serious. When I blush I look like a fire hydrant with ears."

" _Cute_ ears, though."

Chris looks gorgeous when he smiles. It kind of takes Zach's breath away. He lets Chris lead him to the bed, where they lie down and make out, heating up, getting hot and heavy and so perfect. Their hands roam, and Chris kisses down Zach's neck, making him gasp out with how good it feels when Chris sucks and nibbles at his neck. They keep touching and kissing, and then their t-shirts are coming off and Zach can look at Chris's broad chest, the dusky pink of his nipples, the slight softness to his belly. He looks, and then he touches, and then he scoops Chris into his lap, gripping that glorious ass tightly.

"How d'you wanna do this? Zach asks, rocking Chris on top of him.

"Want you to fuck me."

"Yeah? You sure?"

" _Yes._ Just...gently?" Zach can tell that he's a bit nervous, but the directness of it, the way that Chris isn't afraid to ask for what he wants, is _so_ hot. He really wants to take care of Chris now.

"I'll make it so good," he promises. He holds Chris close, letting their foreheads rest together. They just breathe in the same space for a few moments, enjoying the intimacy of it. Then:

"Ok," he says, "We need condoms, we need lube, and we need pillows."

"Lube, right," Chris says. He does a complicated kind of shuffling thing towards the nightstand, all without leaving Zach's lap, which is honestly kind of impressive, and finds the supplies.

"Trust me, ok?" Zach says, "I'm going to take good care of you, make sure you're nice and wet and loose for me, God, Chris, you're so beautiful." Because he really is.

"You, too," Chris says, looking embarrassed. Zach is so eager to see more of him.

"Can you take your jeans off?"

When Chris does, sliding off his boxers as well, Zach gives him a good, long look. His body is gorgeous, with a lovely cock, long and thick and very hard. He can't help licking his lips at the sight.

"Gorgeous," he whispers, earning another beautiful flush to spread across Chris's cheeks.

"You, too," he says, indicating Zach's pants. Zach maintains eye contact, and slides his pants down, smirking when he takes in Chris's bug-eyed expression at the fact that he's not wearing any underwear.

"More comfortable that way," he says, voice husky, and it's not a lie, they really are. "Soft, warm leather against your dick? It's the best. You should try it. Bet your ass would look great in them."

He feels Chris looking at him too, and he _feels_ Chris's appreciation of him. It's an intoxicating feeling.

"I need you to roll over for me," he says, reaching for the lube, "And put a pillow under your hips. It'll feel better."

Chris does so, tilting his ass up. Even though Zach can't see his face, his ears are a tell-tale red. He can see how it might be nerve-wracking, showing yourself to someone like this for the first time.

"Don't be shy, baby," Zach says quietly, "You're stunning." He snaps open the lube and slicks up his fingers, and then rubs down Chris's crack. He smiles when Chris whimpers.

"Sorry, it's a bit cold."

Zach takes his time with Chris. He doesn't want to enter him straight away, as he knows he'll need time to adjust. So he just teases, stroking over and around him, getting him used to the unusual situation. He knows he's made the right choice when he sees Chris trying to stop himself from jumping and tensing up. He really wants Chris to enjoy this, and he knows that preparation is key. Zach plants kisses around the base of Chris's spine and the top of his ass, feeling him relax little by little, and waits until he seems completely comfortable before working his finger inside him.

            When Chris rocks back against his touch, Zach keeps stretching him, adding another finger and searching for his prostate. A moan from Chris tells him when he's found it, and Zach keeps stroking him there.

"Is that nice?" he asks, pretty confident of the answer but wanting to hear it.

" _Yes._ Feels so good, Zach, more, _please_."

"You ready for me?"

"Please...want you in me."

"Ok." Zach slips his fingers out of Chris, places his hands on Chris's hips, and guides them up. "If this hurts you at all, you've got to tell me, ok? Anything you don't like, we can stop." Then he's lining up and sliding inside.

            He's careful, so, so careful. Chris is so hot and so tight, and five hundred different kinds of wonderful, but he reins himself in, giving Chris time to adjust. He makes small, controlled movements, little thrusts of his hips, slow and rocking and measured, and Chris pushes back against him. Zach nuzzles into Chris's neck and kisses him, revelling in the scent of him, his deep gasping breaths, the rise and fall of his chest under Zach's body.

"You like that, baby?" Zach has never in his life called anybody "baby," and he's just done it twice within the space of about ten minutes. What the fuck is wrong with him? He would normally never do anything so sappy, even with a boyfriend, let alone with some guy he's just met.

"It's so good," Chris agrees, "Keep going, keep going..."

"Nice and slow," Zach murmurs, thrusting deep and firm into him, "Just nice and slow. That ok, baby?" Damnit, but he wants to take _care_ of Chris, needs to hear that he's giving him a good time, repay Chris's trust in him.

"Yes, _please_ , more." He can feel the hitch in Chris's breath that indicates he's probably going to come soon, and he's not far himself. He doesn't want to rush it though; he wants to let it build slowly, let it last, let Chris's memory of his first time with a guy to be a good and enduring one. He can't hold off forever – it's been a long time for him, after all – but he can wait a few moments, just to stroke Chris's cock and bring him with him over the edge. When he comes, he holds Chris tightly, and it's harder than he can ever remember.

 

Zach wakes up suddenly, as though someone just yelled at him, although of course nobody has. He takes a moment to get his bearings, and then he remembers. Chris. He's woken up in Chris's bed, after spending an amazing night with him, and Chris is still asleep, snuffling gently in the most adorable way.

            He wonders idly what the time is, and slides carefully out of bed to rummage in his pocket for his phone. When he finds it and unlocks the screen, he has to blink a couple of times before what he sees there makes any kind of sense. **Class Presentation, 12pm.** _What the fuck?_ He freezes in panic. How can he have forgotten a presentation? _Fuck._ He has no idea where he is, he has a presentation in 90 minutes, and he needs to be there in order to pass this class. He'd finished the preparation such a long time ago that he'd forgotten completely about the actual class. He spends a moment cursing both his own stupid paranoia about failing that leads him to complete his homework so far in advance of the deadline and the asshole professor who set a presentation almost a week after the end of all other classes. _Fuck,_ again. He can't fail this class. If he leaves now, he can probably make it, albeit in his outfit from last night, and read the presentation from his phone. He groans. Well, worse things have happened to him in his life, objectively speaking, than giving a presentation while wearing his sluttiest pants, although he can't really think of them right now. He struggles back into his clothes, and is on his way out of the door when he catches sight of himself in the mirror. Smudged eyeliner, and the worst case of bedhead he's ever seen. Eyeliner he can dead with; there are makeup wipes in the pocket of his jacket, but the hair is a bigger problem. He casts around in a panic, and catches sight of Chris's dresser. There's a pile of bills on it. Well, Chris was so desperate for him to get his money back from last night. He snatches a $10 bill from the top of the pile, and also a hat to hide his crazy hair. It's not perfect, but it'll do. Once the presentation is over, he can come back, give Chris his hat back, and explain why he had to run off. And hopefully get his number, and maybe an actual date.

 

Zach comes out of his presentation feeling drained and in desperate need of coffee. His mad scramble to get to the presentation left him no time for any breakfast, and now he's done for the semester, the first thing he's going to do is buy himself a giant pile of baked goods and the largest latte available. The second thing he's going to do is go back to Chris's place. He hasn't really had time to process everything that's happened in the past 24 hours, but he's definitely sure he wants to see Chris again. He's just smiling to himself at the memory of the previous night when he becomes slowly aware of someone yelling his name.

            "Zach! Hey, Zach!"

            Zach looks up, realises it's Chris, wonders whether he now has to power to control the universe simply by thinking, decides he probably doesn't, and then grins. Has Chris been a student here all this time without him realising?

"Chris! Hey, what are you doing here? This your college too?"

"Oh, no. No, I'm out of college. But hey, you're in college, which is great! Bettering yourself. Yeah."

That's...a little weird. Possibly slightly patronising. Zach puts it down to Chris's epic awkwardness.

"I've been thinking about you all day!"

"Really?" This is excellent. Maybe they can go get coffee, exchange numbers, and have many, many other amazing evenings. But then Chris says something he doesn't expect.

"Yeah, listen, I'm sorry about last night."

"Sorry?" Zach feels his face fall. Was last night so bad? Has Chris decided he's made a mistake? "Why? I had a great time last night. Thought you did too."

"Oh no, I did. It was amazing, thank you so much. But Zach, you didn't take your money."

This is confusing. "Yeah I did. I saw the stack of notes on the dresser and I took the 10 for the cab, like I said." Maybe he should have woken Chris up and told him? But then he'd been in such a rush, and he was sure he'd go right back and explain, and $10 isn't so bad, right? Not when he had such a stack of bills just resting there. He's about to have words with Chris about the inadvisability of leaving cash around with complete strangers coming into the place at a more opportune time, when something else unexpected happens.

"But you didn't take the rest." Chris rummages in his bag for something, which turns out to be an envelope, and he holds it out for Zach to take. Zach doesn't take it.

"What the hell is going on?" he says, confused and also kind of pissed off.

"Last night," Chris says, "The money. You know."

Zach doesn't know. In fact, he has no idea. He wracks his brains, replaying the evening for the hundredth time. _Why is Chris trying to give him money for sex? That would make him a... Oh. Wait. No. Really?_ "Oh, my God. _Oh my God._ I know what's going on here. You think I'm a hooker."

"Well, yeah," Chris says, looking puzzled. "Aren't you?"


	3. Chris and Zach

There are several long, horrible moments of silence. Then they both start yelling at once.

"Why the fuck would you even think that?"

"Why didn't you tell me that you weren't?"

"What, I'm supposed to just psychically know that you think I'm a prostitute? I'm not some kind of telepath!"

"What else am I supposed to believe when I hear you telling some guy that he can't afford you?"

"Maybe that it's just some kind of dumb joke? I wasn't even thinking about what I was saying, I was too busy looking at you!"

"Why the hell would you even be looking at me?"

"Oh, I don't know, because you're pretty hot?"

"Don't be ridiculous, I'm not hot."

"Yes you are! And maybe if you had the confidence to go out and talk to people instead of trying to _pay them to like you_ then you wouldn't have this problem!"

Chris pauses as that accusation hits, and then says, "Are you wearing my hat?"

This gives Zach pause. Yes, he _is_ wearing Chris's hat, but that seems so beside the point at the moment that he can't believe Chris is bringing it up.

"Yes. I borrowed it. I'm sorry. I was going to give it back." He looks at Chris again. "Are you covered in coffee?"

"Yes. I, um, spilled it on myself when I saw you."

Suddenly, Zach starts to laugh. Yes, he's pissed off, but he's standing there in a stolen hat while Chris is dripping with coffee, and there is something kind of hilarious about the scale of this misunderstanding. Also, large parts of what he had taken for Chris's awkwardness last night now make sense. The insistence on not leaving Zach out of pocket, the confusion about kissing, the comment about being "unprofessional." It's a relief, actually, to discover the Chris is not actually as odd as he had seemed the night before.

"Don't laugh at me," Chris says in a small voice, looking down at his shoes. Zach feels a pang of guilt, and he hurries to explain.

"I'm not laughing at you. I'm laughing at how ridiculous this is. Because last night I went out to pick up my first-ever random hook-up, and I found you, and you thought I was a hooker."

Chris gives a weak laugh. "Well, to be fair, the conversation I overheard, the pants...you know, can you see how I might have misunderstood?"

"You weren't tempted maybe to find a simpler explanation? Like that I liked you and wanted to go home with you because I found you attractive?"

From Chris's expression, it's clear that this had never even crossed his mind. "I guess I just saw what I wanted to see."

"It was so hard to believe that I might like you for you?"

Chris sighs. "I just...I had no idea how to talk to guys. I figured I'd have more luck if I was a bit more experienced, so... You must think I'm really stupid."

"I don't think you're stupid," Zach says gently. He steps forward, cups Chris's chin in his hand, and lifts it so that Chris is looking him in the face.

"Chris. I like you. I'd love to see you again."

"Why did you leave this morning without saying goodbye?" Chris still looks so vulnerable and anxious, and Zach has to hold himself back from kissing him before they get all of this straightened out.

"I'm sorry I ran off this morning. I had a class presentation that I completely forgot about, and I should have woken you up to tell you, but I was in a panic and I wasn't thinking. I was going to come back to give you your hat back, and hopefully get your number."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

Chris's face bursts into a beautiful smile, and Zach's heart melts all over again.

"So, I have a suggestion. You're still covered in coffee. I'm still wearing your hat. Why don't we go back to your place, get cleaned up, and then maybe see where we go from there?"

"Yes. Are you sure? Yes."

Zach can't resist this time. "Chris. Can I kiss you?"

In answer, Chris initiates the kiss this time, and it's a good one. When they break off, breathing slightly heavily, Chris says, "I'm so glad you're not a hooker."

"Yeah, me too. Because now I can be all yours."

"I like that. Also, I was gonna have to sell some stuff in order to afford you again. I was prepared to do it, but I kind of like my laptop and my watch."

Zach laughs. "I think you'll get a better deal this way. Now, how about we go find some ways to make a dent in that $200?"

"You've got yourself a deal." Chris is grinning mischievously, and it's a good look on him. "Why, do you know any actual hookers who can show me a good time?"

"Shut up, or I really will set up a tab."

They may have failed spectacularly in their mutual aims, Zach thinks, but he's looking forward to what else they can plan together. And Chris? Well, Chris is counting Operation Gay Sex as a success, albeit an unconventional one. In fact, he's going to upgrade it to Operation Boyfriend. Somehow, he doesn't think Zach will mind.


End file.
